Treading the Line
by spittingllama7856
Summary: A collection of one-shots for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Each chapter has it's own plot, they are in no way connected.
1. Kindness

**Hello, readers! This is written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments).**

 **House: Hufflepuff**

 **Subject [Task]: "Duelling [Killing Someone with Kindness]"**

 **Word Count: 1124**

 **Title: "Kindness"**

 **Warnings: Depression and self-harm. Profanity.**

 **A/N: I wrote this while listening to "Teen Idle" by Marina and The Diamonds on loop.**

 **Disclaimer: I did not write Harry Potter. If I did, I would've made Harry and Draco get together. And Lucius and Ginny would be perfectly fine with it.**

 **~Blue Rose**

Draco sighed and shook his head, rubbing his eyes wearily. Pansy watched him open his eyes and lower his hands to the keyboard of his laptop, staring intently at the letter _D_. She knew so many words that started with the letter D: Draco; Dragon; Deranged; Doormat. _Depression_ , she paused before adding that word to the list, wondering if Draco was doing the same.

He licked his lips, momentarily closing his eyes before they flew open, a small fire blooming in the depths of his silvery irises. It was like a ring of molten iron, lining his pupils, Pansy noted. She was sitting beside her best friend, her lips pressed together so she wouldn't blurt out, "Hurry up already!"

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Stupid fucking Pansy," which Pansy herself ignored. She didn't want to shake him by saying anything. He had to do this. He had to get help. Her gaze subconsciously travelled to his forearms. She wasn't looking for the faded scars of the Dark Mark. No, it was a different type of scar she sought.

He leaned forward slightly and clicked "male" before the next question popped onto the screen. And the next. He scowled at each and every one of them, his mood darkening with every word that came into view. But he answered them anyways.

Pansy watched his annoyance build and his patience wear down. She sat stock still as Draco angrily clicked the mouse. He gritted his teeth together at the next question.

"How long have you had depression?" he muttered mockingly. He sneered before snapping the lid shut with more force than required. Pansy was used to these outbursts. She knew when Draco was trying to hide some emotion, be it panic or despair, he always hid it behind anger.

She simply watched at the glass in the picture frames on the walls shattered and turned to powder, and Draco screamed his fury. He stood and lashed out at the Floo Powder on the mantel of the fireplace. It burst into flames, small and green and nauseating.

She bit the inside of her lip, desperately wanting him to just go back to the computer and keep taking the quiz so he could at least get some support. She had asked him to months before that moment, and then he called for her to be with him when he finally did it. The day he finally had to face the music, to acknowledge the fact that he was not well. As if the scars of self-harm on his arms weren't enough for him to know already.

"Draco, please," she said softly, stretching out a hand to him. He wasn't screaming anymore, she noted with shock, but he was sobbing. And that somehow scared her even more. He sludged over to her, dragging his feet across the floor, his shoulders hunched and arms wrapped tightly around himself. She stood and met him halfway, pulling his pale body against hers in a tight embrace.

"It's so hard," Draco whispered after a few minutes. His head ached, his hands were tired and protesting when Draco didn't release the grip he had on his own arms. His voice was hoarse and broken, but Pansy didn't seem to notice. At least he stopped crying.

"I know," she replied softly after a short pause.

"I'm supposed to be strong. It's supposed to be easy," he whispered. Pansy closed her and pulled her taller friend closer.

"No one ever said that," she said firmly.

"I did." Draco's voice sounded angry, but Pansy heard the slight quiver behind the words. It was only there if you knew where to look. Pansy stepped back to look him in the eyes. She set her shoulders.

" _Don't_ ," Pansy begged. " Stop it, Draco. Stop burying yourself in a hole you know you can't climb out of," she commanded, holding his gaze. He didn't back down from her.

"Pansy, please," Draco said in a voice that was anything but asking. He ordered, and Pansy bristled. Her brows furrowed, but she stared up kindly at Draco. He sighed after a minute before stepping away from her.

"What do you need?" Pansy asked. Last time he had a break-down, Pansy and Blaise spent the day doing favors for him. She knew he hated it, she did a little, too, but they did it, anyways. Draco couldn't seem to get out of bed that last time, and he spent so long sleeping. Draco shook his head.

"I don't deserve it, Pansy," Draco said quietly. Pansy sighed, but didn't say anything. She knew there was more. "I don't deserve your kindness."

"Draco, I am doing this because I love you," Pansy said firmly. Draco wouldn't look at her, so she just continued. "What's so hard to understand about that?"

"I just don't want to be a burden," Draco whispered. He was hugging himself again. He looked like he was about to run away from Pansy, so she stepped closer to him.

"Oh, Draco, you aren't a burden," Pansy said. She reached up and wiped the tears from Draco's face. She felt a pang in her heart; it was hard to tell when the tears stopped and when they started these days.

"I don't deserve you," Draco said. Pansy smiled up at her friend and then pulled his head down so she could brush her lips against his forehead. He staggered towards her a bit and chuckled a little. Pansy always made him laugh.

"I don't know what _I_ did to deserve _you,_ Draco. I don't know what I would do without you," Pansy said honestly.

"You'd have a lot more time on your hands and less wrinkles," Draco said. Pansy scowled playfully and hit him on the arm. He laughed and rubbed the rising bruise on his bicep. Pansy really could throw a punch.

"Come," Pansy said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the computer. He groaned but followed. She let go of his hand and plopped down in her chair. He sat beside her, rolling his eyes and opening the laptop again.

He sighed before plunging back into the quiz.

Ten minutes later, he was throwing a pillow around the room that Pansy handed him so he didn't break anything. Oops, so much for that. A small vase he'd gotten from Narcissa was knocked off its shelf and it shattered on the floor.

He knelt down beside the glass, accidentally stepping on a large piece of glass.

"Ow," he said, pulling the shard out. He stared at it for a second, his blood crimson and shining in the dim light. He sighed and threw it to the side.

Pansy's kindness was going to be the death of him

.


	2. Sick

**Subject [Task]: "Potions, task 2: Write about someone being forced to relive or remember past trauma."**

 **Quote: "It shocks me when I kiss him, but it's worth the pain."**

 **Word Count: 1392**

 **Warning: Implied rape, Draco x Voldemort (forcible), violence, murder, addiction.**

 **Title: "Sick"**

 **Note(s): I had trouble finding a quote I could use in this, so I wrote up to the point where Voldemort kisses Draco's forehead when I realized I could use that one. But it said when "I" kiss him, not when "he kisses me," so I worked with it as best I could. That somehow turned into this monstrosity. Please don't hate me! Also, Draco is a good father in this. Deal with it.**

 **~Blue Rose**

 _The screams echoed, shrill and piercing. Screams of children writhing on the floor in pain. Of mothers watching the life drain from their babies. Of daughters losing their fathers. Of sorrow and despair._

 _Draco watched them as their screams were cut short by a flash of green light. He nearly gasped through the Slytherin mask he forced himself to wear._

 _The wand turned from the recently-deceased to him, and he bowed his head in respect. Anything but that green light._

 _"Crucio."_

 _Then the pain laced his senses. He groaned as all of his muscles cramped and his stomach spasmed. He grew rigid and gritted his teeth. He refused to scream like the others did. That would only anger his Lord further._

 _He sank to the floor quickly, bruising his knees and wrapping his arms around himself as best he could._

 _The spell was released, and he took air into his burning lungs. His Lord was laughing. It was high and cut through the air better than any of his victims._

 _Draco was still gasping for air, trying to fight the urge to vomit on the blood-stained floor. It reeked of death in the room._

 _He grew up in that room. He played with the House-elves in that room. And now he bowed low before the Dark Lord there, too._

 _"Rise, Draco," Voldemort ordered. Draco swallowed the bile in his mouth and stood tall before his master. He didn't wince. He didn't give any indication that he was still in pain. He looked up at Voldemort and gulped, not expecting to see Voldemort smiling._

 _It was cruel and twisted. It frightened Draco._

 _Voldemort reached out a pale hand and grabbed Draco's chin with his cold fingers. Draco blinked, somehow stopping himself from flinching._

 _"Very good, Draco," Voldemort said, his voice low. "You will learn how inflict it one day, child. I will teach you." His voice sent shivers down Draco's spine. Voldemort sobered quickly and stared Draco in his eyes._

 _Draco stared back. Voldemort's eyes were red. They were beautiful in the way a Hippogriff was. Dangerous, yes, and not something you'd ever want to have, but ever so beautiful._

 _Voldemort leaned closer to Draco and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead the way a lover might._

 _His lips were cold and clammy, hard and so snake-like. Draco's breathing sped up, not exactly sure what to do._

 _He stood still, silently praying that this would be over quickly. It wasn't._

 _Voldemort leaned down and pressed his lips on Draco's. Voldemort's lips were demanding and unkind. Time froze, and the only thing Draco could think of was how much he wanted to run._

 _But he couldn't. Not if he wanted to live. He kissed Voldemort back._

 _It sent literal sparks through Draco's body and he cried out in pain. He felt Voldemort's laugh vibrate through him. He stumbled back from Voldemort, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth._

 _His Lord waved a hand in dismissal, and Draco somehow calmly exited the room. When he was past the doors, he broke into a sprint and ran to his bedroom. He stumbled out of his clothes and into the bathroom, vomiting up everything he'd eaten that day._

 _He turned the shower on and stepped inside to rid himself of Voldemort's touch, of the blood Draco had to crawl in. He groaned as the hot water passed over his sore body._

 _"It shocks me when I kiss him, but it's worth the pain. As long as I live. As long as Mother makes it out alive," Draco thought as he vigorously scrubbed his porcelain skin raw._

 _"Even if the Dark Lord demands more of me, I'll do it. For Mother," he added._

 _Voldemort would demand everything Draco could offer, he knew. His body, his wealth, his sanity. All of it, to be ruined. To be tainted by Voldemort's influence._

 _The thoughts sent shivers down Draco's spine just as a pale hand slipped around his neck and a pair of cold lips pressed themselves behind Draco's ear._

 _"I knew you'd run, Draco," the other whispered. Draco swallowed a frightened whimper. "You'll never run from me again."_

Draco sat up in his bed, panting and sweating. He frantically glanced around the room, convinced that Voldemort was going to be standing in his doorway, waiting for Draco to wake like he used to.

He relaxed when he saw no one there except for his son and remembered that Voldemort was dead. He smiled a little, despite the disturbing memory that haunted the back of his mind.

"Scorpius, what are you doing out of bed?" he asked the child gently. He held out his hand to Scorpius, impossibly glad his son — though he was only six years old— was with him. Astoria wasn't at the Manor, as she was in St. Mungo's that night, starting a new medication that required the Healers to monitor her at all times.

Scorpius walked into the room, encouraged by his father's actions. He was holding his blanket to his chest, his little face pinched with worry. Draco wondered where the House-elves got off to.

"Daddy, you were having a bad dream, weren't you?" Scorpius asked. Draco sighed and pushed the covers aside to let his son slip in next to him.

"It wasn't that bad," Draco said lightly. But it was, though Draco would never tell anyone that. Even though Astoria wanted him to go see a Mind Healer because he still had flashbacks to the days when Voldemort occupied the Manor.

Scorpius slid in the bed, a concerned look on his face. Draco pulled the blanket over them and wrapped an arm around Scorpius.

"Why do you and Mama take so many potions?" Scorpius asked. He was so sweet and worried it broke Draco's heart to even think about telling him the truth. _Because your Mother's dying and I'm addicted to Dreamless Sleep, even though none of the potions either of us take help us in any way_ , Draco thought bitterly.

"We're both… sick, Scorpius," Draco said instead, slowly, carefully. Scorpius looked up at him, a frown on his face.

"Will I get sick, too?" he asked. Draco smiled in spite of himself.

"No, son, you won't get sick. This type of illness can't be spread," he told him. Scorpius relaxed.

"Good. Will you get better, Daddy?" he inquired. He said it in such a professional manner that Draco bit his lip to keep from grinning proudly.

"I hope so, Scorpius," Draco said. Scorpius nodded.

"Me, too," he chirped. Draco pulled Scorpius closer to him and planted a kiss on his silky blond hair.

Scorpius eventually fell asleep and left Draco to his thoughts. He absently stroked his son's hair.

Draco had been addicted to Dreamless Sleep potion for years, and it was so bad he couldn't go a night without taking it. It didn't do anything anymore, and Draco had tried to stop because he could deal with the dreams when Astoria was there.

But his body wouldn't let him. He vomited when he didn't take it, got dizzy spells and passed out. Had convulsions and went into shock. It was bad, he knew.

He only took the bare minimum now, just enough to keep his body satisfied. It wasn't enough to keep the nightmares at bay, but he didn't want to risk taking more of the potion.

Astoria had urged him to go talk to a Mind Healer. She said that if he could get help he would feel so much better.

But why wasn't she feeling better, then? She was getting "help", and she was getting worse.

Draco was fine. He was alright the way he was.

Honestly, they were just memories he was haunted with. It's not like Voldemort was still in the Manor, leaving him broken in his bed every night.

Dreams were nothing, at least compared to the real thing. He would take the dreams any day over what Astoria had.

Draco sighed and reached over to the nightstand, popping off the cap to another Dreamless Sleep potion. He downed it, not really noticing the bitter taste anymore, and put the empty bottle back in its place. He settled down on the pillows, fully prepared to have nightmares again.

Scorpius snuggled closer to his father, smiling softly in his sleep. Draco didn't have another dream that night.


End file.
